The pirahiba had a grey back with stripes so faint that they were hardly visible. Its head was flat and anchor-shaped. The eyes—very small—were curiously situated on the top of the head instead of at the sides—owing to the fact that the head was really so flat that it had no sides: it was merely a gentle convex curve from one side of the mouth to the other over the skull. The pirahiba too, like most fish of those rivers, possessed long tentacles. Its mouth and fins were slightly tinted red. It displayed powerful teeth similarly arranged to those of the pintado fish previously described.
Then we got some tubarao (or Squalus carcharias)—a small fish with a long, pointed head like a bird's beak, of the plagiostomos order, and several mandĩ—a small yellow fish with enormous eyes. The mandĩ had remarkable vitality. Seven hours after it had been caught—I had no idea the poor thing was still alive—it gave several leaps in the air, and when I put it in a bucket of water it shortly began to swim as if nothing had happened.
There were only two or three very small dug-outs on the Araguaya, none of which were capable of carrying more than one or two people. There was no boat there large enough to carry all my men and baggage, had I even at that moment decided to descend that river instead of proceeding west. I took observations for latitude and longitude at Porto Castanho, as well as boiling-point observations with the hypso-metrical apparatus, the latter in order to get the exact elevation, and also to keep a check on my several aneroids which I used on the journey merely for differential observations.
May 9th, 1910. Boiling point, 210° 3 F. Temperature of the air, 83° F. = 1182 ft. above the sea level. By Aneroid, 1190 ft.
My mules having had a good rest, I was making ready to start on May 12th, when one of my men refused to come any farther. He wished to be paid off and go. So he received his pay and went. He would probably end his existence in that filthy little hamlet. He would never have the energy to return to Goyaz alone. I was rather glad he had gone, as, a few nights previously, he had fired at me while I was asleep. The bullet had actually made a hole through the canvas of my camp bed. I had fortunately taken the precaution to alter the position of my bed—under my tent—a precaution I took every night, after my men had gone to sleep in their hammocks, some distance outside. The man had evidently aimed where he thought my head was resting. I having turned the bed around, the bullet, fired from the man standing, went just over my ankles, perforating the canvas quite close to them. I naturally came out of my tent to see what was the matter, and saw the man with the rifle in his hand.
"Why did you shoot?" I inquired, as the man, evidently surprised to see me standing before him, ejaculated disconnected words.
"I saw a huge onça" (a jaguar) ... "it was there ... I saw its two eyes shining like fire...."
"Did you kill the onça?"
"No, it leapt away."